


Can't keep my hands to myself

by theopaquee



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Body Worship, Cute, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Oral Fixation, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Submissive Haytham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theopaquee/pseuds/theopaquee
Summary: Collection of drabbles for Haytham Kenway.





	1. I'm on fire

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 3am esteemed on energy drinks and I kinda like it? Inspired song || Awolnation - I'm on fire
> 
> My [writing blog](http://kyaitouthiou.tumblr.com/)  
> My [main blog](http://skinflowersandseashells.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Update: next drabble will be smutty ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“I told you it was snowing too hard, sir.” Your hands crossed across your chest with undashed favour as you tried not to sound snide in your remark. “But one more warehouse it was.” Heat blossomed across your cheeks in a mix of anger and the warmth of the fire to your right. There were a light shining in his eyes although it didn’t match with his step as he wandered to the desk in the far corner. Nimble hands working to light the lantern on the desk, cursing lightly as he spilt wax on his papers.

 

“Oh, and I guess the short break was needed too?” Haytham let out a tired sigh, fingers pinching his temples as you watched his hunched form over the desk, no doubt writing an apology letter to William. “And the need to take down more soldiers than necessary. In which I need to inform the others about.” You didn’t pay any mind to his sneer and walked past, your mouth felt dry as you felt something akin to guilt rise in your gut.

 

“Well, we’re here now.” You said, shifting on your feet uncomfortably, melted snow laced your soles and you were itching to take them off. “ Do you mind?” You asked, slowly fiddling at the lace on the boots, waiting for his word.

 

“By all means, we’ll be here a while. Might as well dry out.” Haytham turned around fully and eyed you up almost judgingly, “My apologies for knocking you off of the roof.” The corner of his mouth rose diligently, he swallows thickly and presses his lips into a thin line.

 

“Well, i’m sorry too.” You swallowed a small chuckle.

 

“For what, dare I ask?” 

 

“You’ll find out.”

 

“I don’t like games.”

 

“Well you’re stuck here with me, sir. I would get used to it.” Your hands scratched your elbow - noticing the small scrapes along the outer joint as you exaggeratingly stretched out. “I’m gonna nap.” A smile tugged at your lips as your feet ran more on motor memory than actual effort themselves towards the bed. Every bone in your body were protesting and you suddenly regretted being caught of guard earlier.

 

“I think i’ve done something to my shoulder, sir.” You mumbled as you flopped down on the mattress heavily, giving in to sensation of drowsiness. “I’m gonna make you pay insurance for that.” A light joke to break the silence.

 

“Like i’m not paying you enough.”

 

“You’re not paying me at all.”

 

A heavy sigh heaved from his throat as he rose to his feet, blank expression as he looked your way. “Let me have a look, it’s the least I can do.” A snort came from the bed as you sat up, eyes curiously eyeing the Templar. You was surprised to find him messily rolling his sleeves up, his jacket and waistcoat hung neatly across the back of the chair. Taking a deep breath you realised this is the most disheveled she’d ever seen him.

 

“Charles isn’t going to be happy. And Pitcairn anymore so.” You clicked your neck to the side as you mindlessly massaged your left shoulder. “I landed on it funny I think. Or it was when you literally fell on me.” You grinned when his tongue clicked in annoyance. You loved eliciting these small hints of human out of him.

 

“Not to sound crude, but will you lower your shirt, my dear?”

 

“At least take me to dinner first.” You laughed half heartedly, fingers untying your cravat slowly. “I didn’t know you knew anything about medical care.” Your tone softened as you looked up, surprised to find his eyes still locked on your face rather than the small peeks of skin of your collarbone.

 

“I don’t.” His reply was short, and you suddenly felt almost offended he wasn’t taking up this opportunity to ogle you. Eyes darkened as your fingers moved to the buttons of your blouse - a stupidly fit shirt that The Grand Master made you wear to formal meetings. “Not much anyway.”

 

“Oh how comforting, sir.” You rolled your eyes and continued undressing - taking it slow while you drank up his gaze, his hazy grey eyes watching like always. You then suddenly realised everything about you was made to be hidden from his keen eye. Every breath you took needed to be in place so he doesn’t sense irregularity. It had become a sixth sense to you to keep still and stoic.

 

“So,” You were getting uncomfortable under his watch as he sat between your legs compliantly, hands pressing against your shoulders firmly. His grip held vigor but wasn’t enough to indicate any real threat. “This room only has one bed.” Any conversation at this point was welcome, your focus going from his steady breathing to the small slivers of his chest available through his half unbuttoned shirt. When did he undo those?

 

“I’ll take the comforter.” Was all that came out as his right hand roughly pulled at your aching shoulder, a small yelp leaving your throat. “It’s dislocated, how on earth where you still fine riding a horse back here.” It was more a statement than a question, and you didn’t have the energy to reply. The only thing between you were cloth and heat- such intoxication making you feel drunk in his presence. Like you could mold into his very essence of living.

 

This close you could smell his musk, his entire body smelt like old parchment and lilies. “No it’s okay, you take it - you should rest _comfortably-_ ” You were cut short as you yelled out in pain, your shoulder being pushed back into place with a crude ‘pop’ and a shiver that coursed through you body.

 

“And why should I have the comfort?”

 

“Because you’re old!” You growled, clearly annoyed at the no forewarning. “Oh lord Jesus of shitting-- _ugh_ , you could have warned me.” You clenched your eyes shut as you muffled a sniffle, eyes daring to water. Absurdities flying from your mouth as Haytham leant back, amused and slightly dumbfounded.

 

“What a filthy mouth of yours.” His voice lowered as he grabbed your chin, “Did your parents not teach you manners, young lady?” There was a heat in your stomach as his fingers clenched harder into your jaw. There was a husk lurking in his eyes as he let go and stood up. The heat that had surrounded you vanished and you longed for his closeness again.

 

“Manners don’t mean squat when I can swear,” A sheepish grin stretched on your face as your skin itched for his touch again, a slow burn in your heart. “Say,” You started, but soon found your tone wondering off, eyes darting to anything and everything in the room other than his face.

 

“What’s troubling you?” 

 

“It’s nothing.” Sudden shame washed over you and you layed back down, turning on your good side.  Lashes fluttered lowly against your burning cheeks in thought, body curling up in a fetal position as the cold suddenly crept up your skin. Goosepimples shot up your exposed arms and prickled your legs.

 

“We have ran out of wood, I should go and collect some more.”  Breathing sharply though your nose you listened to his footsteps as they neared the end of the bed and stopped, a subtle sigh leaving his lips as you heard his clothes rustling.

 

“Grand Master?” You didn’t have the courage to look up but jumped as you felt his shoulder cloak pool around your shoulders, the familiar scent lulling you to relax. “Thank you.”

 

_ “Sleep well, my dear.” _

 


	2. In fear and faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He adores every inch of her, and what better way to show it than with love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so late and so short - I haven't had any time lately. I promise next chapter will be better and much longer.
> 
> Inspired song || Meg Myers (Hucci Remix) - Desire  
> My [writing blog](http://kyaitouthiou.tumblr.com/)  
> My [main blog](http://skinflowersandseashells.tumblr.com/)

He wants to take her apart piece by piece, not like a crazed animal mind you - more of a state of mind. Make her feel so good she’s a numb, sated pile of come and sweat and tears from utter satisfaction. He wants to make her feel so safe and so good that she floats for hours. He wants to destroy her to just rebuild her.

Every nuzzle to her skin and every kiss made her lose more control. Every drag of his teeth across her scars were like stars bursting under her skin. It’s almost three in the morning and all he wants to do is whisper into her ear how much he adores her, how much her existence means but he could only buck against her thigh and grind skin on skin with wanting breaths and clenching nails.

“God you’re so valuable,” He smiles slyly against her neck and his grey eyes catch in the reflective glow of the candle lights above her, gold fading into cardinal embers that inspire desire and passion. “You’re a body of blood made beautiful.” Haytham’s canines sank into her skin softly as she sighed deeply, pushing her neck against him for more pressure, more pain just to remind her that he was there, and he wasn’t leaving.

“You shine out so much, like a star.” He nips at her jawline, his hands slowly finding themselves around her thighs gently caressing and scratching at the skin there. “No.” He sighed. “Brighter.” The Grand Master breathed out a single chuckle as he swept in for a chaste kiss for the lips. “You’re like the Sun.”

Haytham found once he started praising her, he couldn’t stop. “You’re so beautiful,” His ruts got harder but not rushed as he panted against her. She finally had enough as her hand held his chin firm as fingers pushed into his mouth; sliding around and forcing their way to his throat to feel his tongue glide everywhere.

“Just fuck me, please.” It was more an order than anything, and Haytham was more than happy to comply. He looked positively ghoulish in the dim light and his sharp features cast in shadow and tawny eyes wide with unspoken lust.


	3. I'm filthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble three, sort of submissive Haytham here. This hasn't been beta'd yet and there are probably a few mistakes, so bear with me! I'm currently training to be spervisor of a new job and I'm very busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired song || Boy Epic - Filthy
> 
> My [writing blog](http://kyaitouthiou.tumblr.com/)  
> My [main blog](http://skinflowersandseashells.tumblr.com/)

Fingers ghosted silently over her skin, digits stretching out to feel more and more in need. Both hands caressing hungrily only to stop at her hips, gripping in need as he forced her hips forward, sliding them up along his thigh as she gasped out. “I don’t like teasing.” She huffed, averting her eyes, back arching against the wall.

 

“How about begging?” Haytham’s mouth hovered over her neck, lips pursed at the centre of her navel as he huffed a chuckle looking down, hot breath devised over her heaving chest. “I desire all of you.” His tongue darted out to lightly slide up her exposed skin, wavering behind her ear as he kissed the skin there; dragging his teeth across her earlobe.

 

“Well,” She paused comically out of breath as his body pressed flat against her, “How about you beg me for a change.” It was less a question and more of a demand.

 

There was a long pause where she thought he had dropped interest until, “Please,” It dripped from his tongue like a foreign prayer - eyes locked with hers for what seemed like eternity. The word sent such an uncomfortable itch to settle on his tongue that he licked his lips to try and rid the sensation.

 

“You can beg harder than that.” Her mouth went to his collarbone roughly, teeth nipping finding a sensitive scar. ‘Please’ was the only word he could think of with his brain swimming - the only thing he could feel was cloth, skin and her breath and the heat. It was intoxicating and he felt he was drowning into her world. “Beg harder, Haytham.” The templar leant into her and tried to reach her lips but she used what force she had to switch their positions; taking slow steps back leaving him breathless and abandoned of her touch. Haytham was shaking, a short gasp leaving his mouth as he pressed further into the tarden bricks of the windowsill, his bare back steaming up the frosted stained glass window.

 

Haytham fumbled around for words, their eyes connecting for brief seconds before her gaze lowered and drank up the scene. Bleak sunlight highlighting the soft strands of his greying hair and body played out like a painting for the most obscene artist. “How many nights, I wonder, did my name slip past your lips.” At this, she dropped to her knees, never breaking eye contact as her calloused hands fumbled with his belt.

 

Her lips curved into a grin up against the bottom of his shaft as she gladly slid her tongue over the base of his balls - teasingly sucking on the skin there and drinking up the mix of pre-cum and saliva greedily. “Did you fuck yourself to me, Grand Master?” Her lips quirked upwards as the heat of a thousand suns spread across his cheeks - painfully aware of his growing erection. 

 

“I need you. Please.” She hummed in response, the gesture sending vibration to course through him, causing a strained noise in his throat. “I want you to make me whole,” He breathed, the heavy ache in his gut growing every moment she stared. In some part of asia, artisans break pottery simply to repair the cracks with gold. Fine veins marking life and oddity. He wanted to do the same to her, he wanted the stars in her eyes - the constellations of her skin and the sun in her heart.

 

“I’ve always wondered why I was drawn to you.” He explained, “But then I realised you’re like me, i’m never satisfied.” 

 

She bowed her head in assent and cleared her throat to take him whole, she accepts the rough touch of his palm, forcing his cock deeper into her slick heat with a gentle push of hips.

 

The hem of his shirt brushed against her flushed nose with each bob of her head. Swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock brought a sweet hum of appreciation to tear from his throat and hips to buck up. It was taking a lot of self control not to moan out as she hollowed her cheeks, not wanting to leave a centimeter of his hardness untouched. Heat blossomed across his skin, creating a sheen of sweat that broke across his chest - which was heaving heavy with muffled moans of gratification.

 

Haytham was pushing on too-eager as his sighs got deeper, hips bucking uncontrollably.


	4. Castle on the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were an essence about him which hummed with youth. She was unsure if it was the fire burning deep in his eyes, or the courageous strike of his sword; but she could feel the passion bursting through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so bad at updating, an sfw drabble this time. I felt like writing something more passionate.
> 
> Inspired song || Keaton Henson - 10am Gare Du Nord  
> My [writing blog](http://kyaitouthiou.tumblr.com/)  
> My [main blog](http://skinflowersandseashells.tumblr.com/)

There were an essence about him which hummed with youth. She was unsure if it was the fire burning deep in his eyes, or the courageous strike of his sword; but she could feel the passion bursting through his veins. He danced between the straw dummies like a ghost, feet never fully touching the floor before he would strike again. She took a deep breath like she was in that moment with him, tasting the same air and smelling the flourishes of wild flowers infesting the cracks of the garden walls.

She smiled to herself nonchalantly before it was swept away from upcoming footsteps. The chain of Reginald’s pocket watch could be heard from across the courtyard as he sneered in Haytham’s direction. “This is where you’ve been dwelling, Kenway-” It was at the sullen use of last name that she cut off from the world, only to stare back at the man with God in his soul. She hummed to herself as she took a firm stance again, hauling herself off the wall to stand on a wooden pole on the training floor. Courteously wiping the old sweat from her forehead with a flick of her wrist, straightening her back.

“-And in regards to the actual problem at hand-” Her right brow raised in retaliation to his exasperated tone, she never much liked the man; far too whiney. She swung on her tiptoes with speed rivaling Haytham’s as the familiar clink of her hidden blade sliced the air and into position, the soft hairs on the base of her neck rising in jubilance. Haytham watched her under lowered lashes, bellowing out breaths as a bead of sweat centred down his forehead. 

“Good girl,” The corners of his mouth tipping up with pride. There were a cluster of birds swarming over head, formation of brilliance as they shadowed the sun for a brief second. Without further notice she took flight herself, eyes trained on his figure; It’s like the world melted away as they danced, feet crossing paths and only metal blades colliding in a beautiful disarray of connection and improbable concoction. Reginald cursed in the background of swirling colours, fading into the bland reality outside of his breath in her ears and his blade at her throat.

Haytham coaxed her closer, feet daring underneath him as they fell into a sure rythm. It was something artistic as if they made a song of their own. A smile grew on her own face as a lock of hair fell down her face, ignoring it, she jumped back to gain distance and to catch her breath. “Come on old man, slowing down are we?” Ignoring Reginald’s red face and temper she gave a signature bow as she took the Templar’s hand to be helped down from the wooden stools.

“I can guarantee it was not I, my dear, I would take a gander at your arm.” A smirk ghosted his eyes as she looked down, a small wound gracing her elbow. She snickered and gave a notorious all teeth smile; not sure if to feel inadequate or impressed by his continuous upper hand.

“You got me,” She breathed out, a small pit of disappointment rolling hard in her stomach. “Reginald, are we quite done?” Finally going to address The Grand Master she bore a hard gaze in his direction, watching his shoulders tense as he heaved out a sigh for the upteenth time.


End file.
